The "falling-down" farmhouse has (for the last ten or so years) been in a journey towards a cave-in. Remarkably, when the residents of the house re-shingled in 1993, they removed the top of the remaining chimney(the old kitchen chimney had been removed approx.1965) from the old living room fireplace...but just the top. When the furnace replaced the old fireplace(approx.1965, also) the old fireplace was boarded up and abandoned, left to crumble behind paneling. Crumble it did. After fifty years of crumbling...the cave-in was fast approaching....unless an intrepid Farmer were to step in and rescue the farmhouse. Insert Dear Farmer.
Dear Farmer will tell you, "I'm just a farmer." And while that is true, if you aren't already aware of what farmers do, let us clue you in to the job-description.
Farmer (n.): able to do electrical(both residential and industrial), welding, construction building, plumbing, mechanic, meteorologist, agricultural botanist, animal husbandry professional, customer relations, salesman.
Thankfully, Dear Farmer has learnt to do all of those well. He's stayed at the top of his game where building is involved...and the "falling-down" farmhouse is kinda like a hobby(that we happen to live in). So when we noted how much the slope of the house had increased over the past two years we also came to cross road: fix it, or start building a new house...this year.
Try as the Wife did, she could not finagle the new house this year. Dear Farmer has too much experience to just let the relic of a farmhouse die....
guess we're fixing it.
The plan was to chisel out the bricks and toss them out the windows to the ground below...from the attic first, then the second floor, then the living room...until all the bricks are out. The chisel workers would be Dear Farmer, the Shadow, and the littlest Shadow. The toss-er would be the Pied Piper. The stacker on the ground level would be the Keeper of the Flame. The Farmer's Daughters would be in there somewhere doing whatever was needed.
Dear Farmer was preparing to begin the work process as the family was all out of the house(thoughtful preparation works better when no one is around to tap on his shoulder, tug on his pant-leg, pester him with questions, and move his tools to remote locations). Dear Farmer chiseled at a brick to test the amount of work this would require...the brick needed no chisel. The mortar simply blew off...scary how little work this would require. Now, as near as we can figure...the farmhouse was built approx.1900-1910. So it stands to reason, the chimney was put in place at the same time. Which leads us to place the brick and mortar age at approx. 108-118 years old. Ouch! No wonder the mortar is non-existent and the bricks are crumbling!
Dear Farmer did the entire chimney by himself(with a couple moments of help from the Haus Frau Farmer's Daughter), in a couple hours. Three stories of brick, neatly stacked, outside of the house.
The rest of the family arrived home to a surprise! I am sure the relief and pleasure were evident on all the faces when we saw the bricks stacked and the job done. The boys didn't have to do any of it, Dear Farmer didn't have to have multiple hands helping, and the girls didn't have too much mess to clean up!
Easy-cheesy-lemon-squeezie!
Dear Farmer was all excited to show the Wife what had been accomplished! "Come on! Come see!", he said as he ushered her into the house, upstairs to the attic door. He opened the attic door(which the Wife has had to admit, just might be her one weakness to sentimentality towards the "falling-down" farmhouse) to show her the work accomplished from the top-down. The Wife, happy(but not really that excited about walking over and around decayed rodent carcasses), dutifully admired the work done, the lack of work required, and the empty hole that descended to the basement.
All the things that could be done with a ready made hole in the floor came to her mind: a dumb-waiter, a laundry shoot, a fireman's pole...all possibilities!
Alas, Dear Farmer looked at his Wife(almost pitifully) and told her it was getting covered up and nothing would happen with it. Then he descended into the basement to jack the middle of the house up a full five inches.
The Wife noticed something else, while up in the attic...the house was built with true 2x4s. Not like the lumber turned out today that isn't actually 2inches x 4inches, but rather 1.5inches x 3.5inches.
Those 2x4s are perfectly squared together, beautiful! Add that beautifully constructed attic to the hand-dug basement complete with logs for the support posts...yeah, I guess I can see why Dear Farmer wanted to save this "falling-down" farmhouse a bit longer.
It just seems a shame that we have to add new lumber to it...lumber that's has a name that's not true to it's size. Lumber that was purchased at a box store, not a lumber mill.
In it's hay-day I am sure the "falling-down" farmhouse was quite the modern home to behold.
Dear Farmer sees it...the Wife has to close her eyes to see it...and when the Wife closes her eyes she still sees the remnants of an old chimney, and the cost of new lumber.
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 2, 2018
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
The Adventures of Dear Farmer and Indoor Plumbing
Disclaimer:this is probably one of the more disgusting posts. But in our family everything is shared news. Everything! It is part of Dear Farmer we love. However, the Wife does not believe that this is part of country hospitality....though, should you visit, you should know this beforehand.
No, We do not have an outhouse. Yes, we do have indoor plumbing. However, we have the indoor plumbing from when indoor plumbing was first made. And then in the ninteen sixties someone thought it looked old, put a new pink face on it, and made it appear hip and trendy.
A mere fifty years after the facelift, the bones of the original plumbing are brittle and clogged...and needing replacing.
Insert Dear Farmer's newest adventure...indoor plumbing.
To give Dear Farmer more time to research the "how to" his family has come up with a jingle you might have heard in a playground, " If its yellow, let it mellow. If its brown, flush it down." This is the core of playground humor, and reality in this old farmhouse. Well, reality until Dear Farmer has figured out how to fix and replace the old plumbing.
Insert the family joke: "but what do you do if its green?"
Now you can screw up your face, giggle and laugh. But really...what do you do?
Here in lies the adventure every time we open the toilet lid. What did the person who used the bathroom before you do? What did they do with the green?
No, We do not have an outhouse. Yes, we do have indoor plumbing. However, we have the indoor plumbing from when indoor plumbing was first made. And then in the ninteen sixties someone thought it looked old, put a new pink face on it, and made it appear hip and trendy.
A mere fifty years after the facelift, the bones of the original plumbing are brittle and clogged...and needing replacing.
Insert Dear Farmer's newest adventure...indoor plumbing.
To give Dear Farmer more time to research the "how to" his family has come up with a jingle you might have heard in a playground, " If its yellow, let it mellow. If its brown, flush it down." This is the core of playground humor, and reality in this old farmhouse. Well, reality until Dear Farmer has figured out how to fix and replace the old plumbing.
Insert the family joke: "but what do you do if its green?"
Now you can screw up your face, giggle and laugh. But really...what do you do?
Here in lies the adventure every time we open the toilet lid. What did the person who used the bathroom before you do? What did they do with the green?
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Just two small words...manure fork
Excited the children with a manure fork this week. It's what Dear Farmer and the Wife picked up on their date...because we know how to thrill our children.
When they rush downstairs(because they aren't actually sleeping when we walk in from our date late night) and the question is "what did you bring me?" They were all just hoping we would say "a manure fork", I am so sure!
Shoulders slump, feet thump back upstairs, certainty that the other shoe will drop in the morning, they trudge back upstairs to bed.
With no messing around, the Wife got people moving into chores the next morning. Take that brand new shiny manure fork to the barn, she told the WhizBang!Farmer's Daughter, and clean the floor.
About half way through the job a tragedy struck. The locking nut fell off disconnecting the tines from the handle. And the nut was lost! WhizBang!Farmer's Daughter concealed her joy and delight well as she broke the news to the Wife. The manure fork would remain new and relatively shiny until a new nut could be bought.
Not to fear, the Wife still has the old pitch fork. The job isn't nearly as neat as it would have been with the manure fork, but it'll work.
The floor of the barn is now clean and fresh. Next date: locking nut for the manure fork. And this time, we'll tighten the nut before chores.
When they rush downstairs(because they aren't actually sleeping when we walk in from our date late night) and the question is "what did you bring me?" They were all just hoping we would say "a manure fork", I am so sure!
Shoulders slump, feet thump back upstairs, certainty that the other shoe will drop in the morning, they trudge back upstairs to bed.
With no messing around, the Wife got people moving into chores the next morning. Take that brand new shiny manure fork to the barn, she told the WhizBang!Farmer's Daughter, and clean the floor.
About half way through the job a tragedy struck. The locking nut fell off disconnecting the tines from the handle. And the nut was lost! WhizBang!Farmer's Daughter concealed her joy and delight well as she broke the news to the Wife. The manure fork would remain new and relatively shiny until a new nut could be bought.
Not to fear, the Wife still has the old pitch fork. The job isn't nearly as neat as it would have been with the manure fork, but it'll work.
The floor of the barn is now clean and fresh. Next date: locking nut for the manure fork. And this time, we'll tighten the nut before chores.
Friday, June 17, 2016
Low Stress Farming
Dear Farmer came in yesterday and did his electrician thing. Wired up the outlets for a brilliant chuck wagon, the "sock" and the "shoe". Then we took a walk in the garden with children howling beside us (they are the local natives). He decided to get gas and took three daughters with him. When he came home, it still wasn't bedtime. What is this strange life? We call it " low stress". No need for a pot of coffee and an hour of pacing to get worked up enough to walk out the door. No bombardment of phone calls or emails. For anyone wondering if it's worth it to make a major lifestyle change or have a stroke...do the change!!!
What we changed to:
Pay cut
Tiny house
Smaller herd
Bigger garden
More time
New job
Moved location
What we changed to:
Pay cut
Tiny house
Smaller herd
Bigger garden
More time
New job
Moved location
No Regrets!
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Dear Farmer "Repurposes" The Wife's Furniture
Dear Farmer has built the Wife almost all her furniture. Everything starts with scrap lumber from farm projects. The only things Dear Farmer hasn't built have been handed down to us by generations before(family heirlooms). The coffee tables started as wood racks-which explains why they've been built with 2 x 12 boards. The tops were the siding from the first barn he built. Leftovers, cut to just the right size. Our bed started as the children's playtable...but built with the thought that four children(at that time) never fit around a small play table well, it needs to be big enough for all four...like the exact size of a king-size mattress. As time marched on the playtable repurosed into the Wife's bed. Which Dear Farmer built her a frame for, that looks just like the fence that he built around the perimeter of the farm.(Check out blogpost 5/8/15 "Building, building, building")
So this leads us to the next repurposing of furniture...since we're moving what can we take apart and reuse elsewhere? So far the list of furniture Dear Farmer can't touch is simply the list of heirloom furniture. Everything else will be far game...
What will the bed frame become?
What will the coffee bar become?
Will the wood racks that became coffee tables become shelving or countertops next?
Will the boxes to store blankets, that became end tables, which now store toys stay the same, or change?
This is all very exciting! Like getting a whole bunch of new gifts, a whole new furniture set of furniture! And the Wife will be able to look at the countertop, or butcher block, or stud on the wall and tell a story of how "this plank was....and I always loved how Dear Farmer thought of each detail and each need we had, and filled it."
{Sigh} I love this Dear Farmer! What a guy!
So this leads us to the next repurposing of furniture...since we're moving what can we take apart and reuse elsewhere? So far the list of furniture Dear Farmer can't touch is simply the list of heirloom furniture. Everything else will be far game...
What will the bed frame become?
What will the coffee bar become?
Will the wood racks that became coffee tables become shelving or countertops next?
Will the boxes to store blankets, that became end tables, which now store toys stay the same, or change?
This is all very exciting! Like getting a whole bunch of new gifts, a whole new furniture set of furniture! And the Wife will be able to look at the countertop, or butcher block, or stud on the wall and tell a story of how "this plank was....and I always loved how Dear Farmer thought of each detail and each need we had, and filled it."
{Sigh} I love this Dear Farmer! What a guy!
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
The Repair from the Deer
Dear Farmer hit a deer. The first deer he's EVER hit in his entire life...either as a passenger, or as a driver.
Unfortunately, he hit the deer with the van that we tow everything with. Our first van. Our "Love Bus"(as the children have known her).
Good news:
A 2000 Chevy Express that hits a deer will only sustain minor dents on the outside.
The parts to repair cost less than you think they might.
The parts to repair are almost all available at your local auto-supply store.
Bad news:
There are three parts that are most likely to be damaged in a "head on" hit with a deer...they are all necessary.
You have to order all your lenses for the turn signals directly from GM if you want new ones(cough, cough, sputter)
Dear Farmer is plenty busy and doesn't have time to fix a van right now!!!
We need that van to haul all the material we've been gathering on sale for our tiny houses!!!
So, Dear Farmer and the Nordic Ninja are outside, on a cold (35 F) night working by flood lights to repair the van. They have assembled all the pieces (they think), and though neither of them are mechanics...they are going for it! Dear Farmer turned into a pumpkin a half hour ago, and the Nordic Ninja worked a ten hour day with only one fifteen minute break, they are bone tired...and determined.
Moral of the Story: never hit a deer
Unfortunately, he hit the deer with the van that we tow everything with. Our first van. Our "Love Bus"(as the children have known her).
Good news:
A 2000 Chevy Express that hits a deer will only sustain minor dents on the outside.
The parts to repair cost less than you think they might.
The parts to repair are almost all available at your local auto-supply store.
Bad news:
There are three parts that are most likely to be damaged in a "head on" hit with a deer...they are all necessary.
You have to order all your lenses for the turn signals directly from GM if you want new ones(cough, cough, sputter)
Dear Farmer is plenty busy and doesn't have time to fix a van right now!!!
We need that van to haul all the material we've been gathering on sale for our tiny houses!!!
So, Dear Farmer and the Nordic Ninja are outside, on a cold (35 F) night working by flood lights to repair the van. They have assembled all the pieces (they think), and though neither of them are mechanics...they are going for it! Dear Farmer turned into a pumpkin a half hour ago, and the Nordic Ninja worked a ten hour day with only one fifteen minute break, they are bone tired...and determined.
Moral of the Story: never hit a deer
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
Multi-tasking...
There are a lot of things Dear Farmer can do.
Multi-tasking, however, should not be one of them.
Dear Farmer has a habit of working in his head on a project, "listening" to the Wife talk, all while actually working on another project.
Surely I exaggerate, you say? No. I am totally serious.
The fact that he does this, and does it on a very (all too) frequent basis, can fool most people into thinking that he can do it well.
The Wife concedes...usually he does do it well.
EXCEPT! Except if it is late at night. Late at night and driving. Not a good combination.
Example: Dear Farmer and the Wife were out on a date. Another "hot date" to the local farm-implement store and lumber yard. While in these locations the Wife had opportunity to think on the present "tiny house" project we have going. Think and think...and then release on Dear Farmer. The conversation on the ride home was lively and funny and insightful. And un-knowingly to the Wife...Dear Farmer was building the ideas into the plans of the "tiny house" in his head. He was measuring lengths and angles while the Wife continued on the conversation about wash-tubs and clothes lines...
Then it happened.
As we were driving down the highway, approaching our turn-off to home...Dear Farmer didn't slow. At all.
Not even a little. And the turn was coming up really fast!
The Wife did a little yelp ("turn."). He didn't respond.
The Wife did a little more forceful yelp ("Turn!"). He blinked and looked around bewildered.
The Wife got all out bossy ("TURN, NOW!").
Dear Farmer finally responded, "WHY? WHERE ARE WE?!"
"At the ROAD we LIVE DOWN!", the Wife elaborated in a rather forceful voice.
Dear Farmer yanked the steering wheel, stomped on the brake and turned (not a delicate movement by any means).
"What were you DOING?!", the Wife laid into Dear Farmer.
Sheepishly, Dear Farmer responded..."I was working on the tiny house, and driving home from Illinois on a Sunday night."
So we could either say that Dear Farmer was multi-tasking...or displaying signs of early-onslaught dimensia. We'll go with the multi-tasking.
Dear Farmer, being his wonderful multi-tasking self, was figuring out the gutter system for the tiny houses, thinking about his upcoming commute to see us at the family garden on the Illinois farm and then returning to the Northern Farm on a Sunday evening, all while talking with the Wife on our drive home from our "hot date".
But late night, the worlds in his head, and in reality clashed...and he almost missed the turn to home.
Lots of laughter, lots of elbowing, and some good chuckles from the Farmer's Daughters, the Nordic Ninja, and the Wife.
We love our Dear Farmer...even while he's multi-tasking.
Multi-tasking, however, should not be one of them.
Dear Farmer has a habit of working in his head on a project, "listening" to the Wife talk, all while actually working on another project.
Surely I exaggerate, you say? No. I am totally serious.
The fact that he does this, and does it on a very (all too) frequent basis, can fool most people into thinking that he can do it well.
The Wife concedes...usually he does do it well.
EXCEPT! Except if it is late at night. Late at night and driving. Not a good combination.
Example: Dear Farmer and the Wife were out on a date. Another "hot date" to the local farm-implement store and lumber yard. While in these locations the Wife had opportunity to think on the present "tiny house" project we have going. Think and think...and then release on Dear Farmer. The conversation on the ride home was lively and funny and insightful. And un-knowingly to the Wife...Dear Farmer was building the ideas into the plans of the "tiny house" in his head. He was measuring lengths and angles while the Wife continued on the conversation about wash-tubs and clothes lines...
Then it happened.
As we were driving down the highway, approaching our turn-off to home...Dear Farmer didn't slow. At all.
Not even a little. And the turn was coming up really fast!
The Wife did a little yelp ("turn."). He didn't respond.
The Wife did a little more forceful yelp ("Turn!"). He blinked and looked around bewildered.
The Wife got all out bossy ("TURN, NOW!").
Dear Farmer finally responded, "WHY? WHERE ARE WE?!"
"At the ROAD we LIVE DOWN!", the Wife elaborated in a rather forceful voice.
Dear Farmer yanked the steering wheel, stomped on the brake and turned (not a delicate movement by any means).
"What were you DOING?!", the Wife laid into Dear Farmer.
Sheepishly, Dear Farmer responded..."I was working on the tiny house, and driving home from Illinois on a Sunday night."
So we could either say that Dear Farmer was multi-tasking...or displaying signs of early-onslaught dimensia. We'll go with the multi-tasking.
Dear Farmer, being his wonderful multi-tasking self, was figuring out the gutter system for the tiny houses, thinking about his upcoming commute to see us at the family garden on the Illinois farm and then returning to the Northern Farm on a Sunday evening, all while talking with the Wife on our drive home from our "hot date".
But late night, the worlds in his head, and in reality clashed...and he almost missed the turn to home.
Lots of laughter, lots of elbowing, and some good chuckles from the Farmer's Daughters, the Nordic Ninja, and the Wife.
We love our Dear Farmer...even while he's multi-tasking.
Friday, April 8, 2016
Dear Farmer Gets Comfy
When the day is done, and the work is at a point where Dear Farmer can sleep(because work is never actually done), Dear Farmer comes inside the house all excited.
The woodstove is still blazing, the weather outside is muddy and wet and cold (spring in the North! Yippee.), and Dear Farmer begins the process of getting comfy.
Aching joints and sore muscles get oiled. Bumps, bruises and nicks are identified and patched up. And then he sits down in front of the stove.
Off come the wet socks to be hung behind the stove, wool is a wonderful material! It's kept his feet warm and dry all day!
Off comes the crocheted hat from the Farmer's Daughter (also wet), to be hung to dry. He loves this hat! It's his favorite!
Off comes the flannel button down shirt. It's also dripping wet. We make sure we take everything out of the pockets...the pens, the notebook, the index cards(his field and herd logs), and the immense amount of hay. Into the laundry it goes. He's now down to his T-shirt. He goes and changes this for a dry and clean one for the rest of the evening.
And finally the pants come off. No, this is not a strip-tease! The pants are covered in muck and mud, poop and hay, and don't forget the occasional egg that he's sat on accidentally while working on the chicken coop.
(Seriously, would you want your husband sitting around the house in these pants???)
To put everyone's mind at ease...he's wearing polar fleece PJ pants under his work pants, so he's not in his undies! So, the pants go into the wash as well.
And now, Dear Farmer is officially comfy.
With all the work clothes off, the house shoes on, lounging in a T-shirt and PJ pants...he's ready for some good conversation and coffee.
Sounds like it's time for some Country Hospitality!!!
The woodstove is still blazing, the weather outside is muddy and wet and cold (spring in the North! Yippee.), and Dear Farmer begins the process of getting comfy.
Aching joints and sore muscles get oiled. Bumps, bruises and nicks are identified and patched up. And then he sits down in front of the stove.
Off come the wet socks to be hung behind the stove, wool is a wonderful material! It's kept his feet warm and dry all day!
Off comes the crocheted hat from the Farmer's Daughter (also wet), to be hung to dry. He loves this hat! It's his favorite!
Off comes the flannel button down shirt. It's also dripping wet. We make sure we take everything out of the pockets...the pens, the notebook, the index cards(his field and herd logs), and the immense amount of hay. Into the laundry it goes. He's now down to his T-shirt. He goes and changes this for a dry and clean one for the rest of the evening.
And finally the pants come off. No, this is not a strip-tease! The pants are covered in muck and mud, poop and hay, and don't forget the occasional egg that he's sat on accidentally while working on the chicken coop.
(Seriously, would you want your husband sitting around the house in these pants???)
To put everyone's mind at ease...he's wearing polar fleece PJ pants under his work pants, so he's not in his undies! So, the pants go into the wash as well.
And now, Dear Farmer is officially comfy.
With all the work clothes off, the house shoes on, lounging in a T-shirt and PJ pants...he's ready for some good conversation and coffee.
Sounds like it's time for some Country Hospitality!!!
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
The Family Question of the Night...the Wednesday Night Special
Dear Farmer was asked a question tonight at dinner..."Who has been the biggest influence in your life?"
He looked around the table. The whole family was there. Something that doesn't happen often enough anymore...
There was a time when it was just Dear Farmer and the Wife. They dreamed about winning the lottery. Two people with a million dollars, they had it spent! Alas, they never had a ticket, it was all just a dream.
Scrimping and saving.
Giving and living without.
Rejection of "wants and desires", but the joys of each need being filled.
Somehow, year by year, the most important thing became Family.
Each set of eyes staring back at him were a monument to a time when he learned,
a time when he sacrificed,
a time when he overcame!
He was blessed by each one of those children countless times.
More than they will ever know.
Not until they are parents, will they understand....it was worth it all!
He'd do it all again...the scrimping and saving,
the giving,
the living without,
the never-having-it-all, but the just-having-enough...
he'd do it all again in a heartbeat!
Dear Farmer's answer was perfect..."Your Mother. Without her, none of you would be here."
I Love this Farmer!!!
He looked around the table. The whole family was there. Something that doesn't happen often enough anymore...
There was a time when it was just Dear Farmer and the Wife. They dreamed about winning the lottery. Two people with a million dollars, they had it spent! Alas, they never had a ticket, it was all just a dream.
Scrimping and saving.
Giving and living without.
Rejection of "wants and desires", but the joys of each need being filled.
Somehow, year by year, the most important thing became Family.
Each set of eyes staring back at him were a monument to a time when he learned,
a time when he sacrificed,
a time when he overcame!
He was blessed by each one of those children countless times.
More than they will ever know.
Not until they are parents, will they understand....it was worth it all!
He'd do it all again...the scrimping and saving,
the giving,
the living without,
the never-having-it-all, but the just-having-enough...
he'd do it all again in a heartbeat!
Dear Farmer's answer was perfect..."Your Mother. Without her, none of you would be here."
I Love this Farmer!!!
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Buying Fencing...or...The Reason Dear Farmer Takes His Wife Shopping
So off to the local farm supply store Dear Farmer and the Wife go! It's date-night!
On the list: goat oats, new collar for polar bear(she's chewed off the other), and...fencing.
About three seconds outside the store the Wife realizes...she forgot her phone at home.
"Ugh!", says Dear Farmer, "Why do you even HAVE a phone?!"(This is a mute argument, everyone knows Wives have phones so they can leave them where they are not.)
The Wife says to Dear Farmer, "Don't worry. I'm a big girl! I can handle the farm supply store. I'll get what I need for the goats and the polar bear and I'll meet you in the fencing supply."
And so off they separate.
Dear Farmer goes off to the fencing supply.
The Wife detours to the kitchen gadgets, then rounds the corner to the canning supplies, over to the shoes...boots...children's boots...looks for all the sizes for the children who are needing shoes, realizes the boots cost more than she is willing to spend...over to the clearance racks for clothing..., down past the baby clothes(that are so darn cute! do we know anyone that is having a baby???), through all the garden supplies, checking out the seeds, meanders through the paint department(to grab some colors that she'll never get to paint, but wouldn't it be nice to dream), through the hunting section, over to the bikes, and the books, and the dog toys....picks up the collar for the polar bear, picks up the goats oats, and turns to the fencing...
where she finds Dear Farmer.
It's been an hour.
Dear Farmer is staring at a computer screen.
This is where he's to order the fence.
There's no one around to help him work the computer.
He looks at the Wife and growls, "I hate technology! I've been messing with this screen and I can't get it to the stuff I want!"
The Wife has two choices: Do it herself or find an associate.
She opts for the associate.
Over one aisle she finds an associate and explains a farmer needs his help.
He doesn't look surprised.
Dear Farmer tells the associate what he needs. The associate finds it, makes the screen work just fine, asks Dear Farmer if there is anything else he can help him with, and prints out the needed papers for the check out. Dear Farmer laughs with the associate about the "good ol' days" when a person spoke to another person and they handed them what they needed. The associate smiles and nods, then walks away...Dear Farmer figures the associate must be about twelve, "Had no idea what I was talking about.", he says.
Dear Farmer and the Wife go to the check out.
The cashier checks them out, she's about twelve as well.
They hand the cashier cash.
She looks at Dear Farmer almost sympathetically as she asks if he would like to open a credit card with the store.
Dear Farmer replies a solid, "No."
The cashier has to inspect the bills, draw on them with a marker, and then the computer tells her exactly what change to hand back.
She didn't have to do any math.
Dear Farmer and the Wife drive away with everything on the list. Most importantly the fencing...
On the way home the conversation is about how young everyone in looks these days, and how young the police officers are(do their mothers know they carry guns?!). They laugh about the not having to do math, and the credit card offers. They giggle about the computers that aren't Dear Farmer's friends.
It's the fun of the evening...it's the lighter side of a boring activity...it's life...Dear Farmer's life.
On the list: goat oats, new collar for polar bear(she's chewed off the other), and...fencing.
About three seconds outside the store the Wife realizes...she forgot her phone at home.
"Ugh!", says Dear Farmer, "Why do you even HAVE a phone?!"(This is a mute argument, everyone knows Wives have phones so they can leave them where they are not.)
The Wife says to Dear Farmer, "Don't worry. I'm a big girl! I can handle the farm supply store. I'll get what I need for the goats and the polar bear and I'll meet you in the fencing supply."
And so off they separate.
Dear Farmer goes off to the fencing supply.
The Wife detours to the kitchen gadgets, then rounds the corner to the canning supplies, over to the shoes...boots...children's boots...looks for all the sizes for the children who are needing shoes, realizes the boots cost more than she is willing to spend...over to the clearance racks for clothing..., down past the baby clothes(that are so darn cute! do we know anyone that is having a baby???), through all the garden supplies, checking out the seeds, meanders through the paint department(to grab some colors that she'll never get to paint, but wouldn't it be nice to dream), through the hunting section, over to the bikes, and the books, and the dog toys....picks up the collar for the polar bear, picks up the goats oats, and turns to the fencing...
where she finds Dear Farmer.
It's been an hour.
Dear Farmer is staring at a computer screen.
This is where he's to order the fence.
There's no one around to help him work the computer.
He looks at the Wife and growls, "I hate technology! I've been messing with this screen and I can't get it to the stuff I want!"
The Wife has two choices: Do it herself or find an associate.
She opts for the associate.
Over one aisle she finds an associate and explains a farmer needs his help.
He doesn't look surprised.
Dear Farmer tells the associate what he needs. The associate finds it, makes the screen work just fine, asks Dear Farmer if there is anything else he can help him with, and prints out the needed papers for the check out. Dear Farmer laughs with the associate about the "good ol' days" when a person spoke to another person and they handed them what they needed. The associate smiles and nods, then walks away...Dear Farmer figures the associate must be about twelve, "Had no idea what I was talking about.", he says.
Dear Farmer and the Wife go to the check out.
The cashier checks them out, she's about twelve as well.
They hand the cashier cash.
She looks at Dear Farmer almost sympathetically as she asks if he would like to open a credit card with the store.
Dear Farmer replies a solid, "No."
The cashier has to inspect the bills, draw on them with a marker, and then the computer tells her exactly what change to hand back.
She didn't have to do any math.
Dear Farmer and the Wife drive away with everything on the list. Most importantly the fencing...
On the way home the conversation is about how young everyone in looks these days, and how young the police officers are(do their mothers know they carry guns?!). They laugh about the not having to do math, and the credit card offers. They giggle about the computers that aren't Dear Farmer's friends.
It's the fun of the evening...it's the lighter side of a boring activity...it's life...Dear Farmer's life.
Monday, February 29, 2016
Dear Farmer is used to this phone call...but not this ending.
"The cows are out!"
If I had a dollar for every time Dear Farmer got that phone call...I'd have thousands of dollars! And rain, snow, or shine. During hay, startled awake, or driving...Dear Farmer drops everything and goes to call the "ladies" back to the fields of safety.
"The cows are out!"
At 10 pm when he just falls asleep. At 4 in the morning. While we're on a date. When we're sitting down to dinner.
"The cows are out!"
Absolutely the worst time to hear that is when we're out of town....which is what happened this weekend.
Dear Farmer and the Wife attended the MOSES Conference. It's the largest midwest organics conference, and the place where Dear Farmer isn't alone. ALL the farmers have the same lifestyle. ALL the farmers are in the same boat, doing the same paperwork, and needing some "atta-boy"-time. This conference is that refreshment for all those farmers. And the Wife? Really, she was just along for the ride. She went to the conference, heard the speakers, and came out patting Dear Farmer on the back("Look, Dear, you're not alone.").
After a wonderful weekend, on the trek home, we got the phone call.
"Pop! The cows are out!"
sigh.
(then the rest..)"Don't worry, Pop. We got them back in ourselves. Drive Safe!"
Wow! What a blessing to have a family that knows how to do what you do! A family that can pitch-hit without you, and appreciates you all the more.
Makes you feel like you did things well...makes Dear Farmer feel a tingly and happy inside.
#MOSES2016
If I had a dollar for every time Dear Farmer got that phone call...I'd have thousands of dollars! And rain, snow, or shine. During hay, startled awake, or driving...Dear Farmer drops everything and goes to call the "ladies" back to the fields of safety.
"The cows are out!"
At 10 pm when he just falls asleep. At 4 in the morning. While we're on a date. When we're sitting down to dinner.
"The cows are out!"
Absolutely the worst time to hear that is when we're out of town....which is what happened this weekend.
Dear Farmer and the Wife attended the MOSES Conference. It's the largest midwest organics conference, and the place where Dear Farmer isn't alone. ALL the farmers have the same lifestyle. ALL the farmers are in the same boat, doing the same paperwork, and needing some "atta-boy"-time. This conference is that refreshment for all those farmers. And the Wife? Really, she was just along for the ride. She went to the conference, heard the speakers, and came out patting Dear Farmer on the back("Look, Dear, you're not alone.").
After a wonderful weekend, on the trek home, we got the phone call.
"Pop! The cows are out!"
sigh.
(then the rest..)"Don't worry, Pop. We got them back in ourselves. Drive Safe!"
Wow! What a blessing to have a family that knows how to do what you do! A family that can pitch-hit without you, and appreciates you all the more.
Makes you feel like you did things well...makes Dear Farmer feel a tingly and happy inside.
#MOSES2016
Thursday, February 18, 2016
I Bought My Love a Flock of Chickens and Ducks
So, you may have gotten the idea that around here gift giving is pretty practical.
Examples:
Birthday - Dear Farmer built a bed for the Wife
Anniversary - Dear Farmer and Wife give eachother goats
Birthday - The Wife gives Dear Farmer fence supplies
Christmas - The Parents give the children "bus tubs" for cleaning the dining room/kitchen
Yeah...it looks pretty bare bones around here....
ANYHOW... for Dear Farmer's upcoming birthday (June) this year, the Wife told him she'd like to buy him a flock of chickens and ducks. The Wife has to give Dear Farmer this gift now, because he has to place his order to the hatchery so that the flock can be delivered by mid-spring...and then be able to be enjoyed by June.
The Wife told Dear Farmer he could choose what-ever he wanted...like a kid in a candy story, Dear Farmer's eyes widened and he started jumping up and down! His very own flock!
He has been working hard pouring over the hatchery catalog, researching and pricing. He's still undecided on everything he wants...but he's pretty set on laying chickens and a "straight run" of ducks. (A "straight run" means that the hatchery just sends you little guys without looking for male or female parts.)
We've learned that ducks do a great job eating ticks, so the more ducks we have, the less ticks we have. Dear Farmer's theory is "Let those boys feast all year, and then we'll eat them!"
For the laying chickens Dear Farmer wants just female...obviously, THOSE are the ones that lay eggs...but a colorful flock, and no broody hens.
He's having fun with his birthday gift preparations...and the Wife is looking forward to all those eggs!
What other Wife can say, "I bought my love a flock of various foul for his birthday!"???
Anyone else?
Examples:
Birthday - Dear Farmer built a bed for the Wife
Anniversary - Dear Farmer and Wife give eachother goats
Birthday - The Wife gives Dear Farmer fence supplies
Christmas - The Parents give the children "bus tubs" for cleaning the dining room/kitchen
Yeah...it looks pretty bare bones around here....
ANYHOW... for Dear Farmer's upcoming birthday (June) this year, the Wife told him she'd like to buy him a flock of chickens and ducks. The Wife has to give Dear Farmer this gift now, because he has to place his order to the hatchery so that the flock can be delivered by mid-spring...and then be able to be enjoyed by June.
The Wife told Dear Farmer he could choose what-ever he wanted...like a kid in a candy story, Dear Farmer's eyes widened and he started jumping up and down! His very own flock!
He has been working hard pouring over the hatchery catalog, researching and pricing. He's still undecided on everything he wants...but he's pretty set on laying chickens and a "straight run" of ducks. (A "straight run" means that the hatchery just sends you little guys without looking for male or female parts.)
We've learned that ducks do a great job eating ticks, so the more ducks we have, the less ticks we have. Dear Farmer's theory is "Let those boys feast all year, and then we'll eat them!"
For the laying chickens Dear Farmer wants just female...obviously, THOSE are the ones that lay eggs...but a colorful flock, and no broody hens.
He's having fun with his birthday gift preparations...and the Wife is looking forward to all those eggs!
What other Wife can say, "I bought my love a flock of various foul for his birthday!"???
Anyone else?
Friday, February 12, 2016
The Goats are Messing Up the Barn
Dear Farmer is in the midst of a frustrating situation. The Goats are being goats.
They are climbing his hay like mountains and while doing so, they are making a mess of the hay.
The Goats are jumping and romping up the steep cliffs of the bales as though it were nothing. They bounce around like they have anti-gravity-hooves. They are healthy, happy, and energized Goats.
Gone are the days of Dear Farmer having the barn all to himself, the hay remaining neatly stacked until he fed it...the Goats are terrorizing his solitude. The Goats seem to have no concern for the neatness in the hay bales.
Dear Farmer is aghast!
He comes inside at night shaking his head and moaning..."my hay. they are wrecking my hay bales..."
The Wife looks at Dear Farmer.
She has two children hanging on either leg, snotty smiles and giggles. She is holding a baby who needs a diaper change(again). The living room is covered in legos and children. An art project is strewn out on the table with more children. There is lots of activity inside the house. Yelling, laughing, thumping activity. Happy and healthy, energized children.
The Wife offers to Dear Farmer, "I'll send the children out to the barn to help you clean up from the Goats."
Dear Farmer actually looks around, at the Wife, at the house, at the children.
"No...I'll go clean it up later." , he says.
And Dear Farmer goes back out to his barn...and the Goats. It's really not that bad of a mess down at the barn.
They are climbing his hay like mountains and while doing so, they are making a mess of the hay.
The Goats are jumping and romping up the steep cliffs of the bales as though it were nothing. They bounce around like they have anti-gravity-hooves. They are healthy, happy, and energized Goats.
Gone are the days of Dear Farmer having the barn all to himself, the hay remaining neatly stacked until he fed it...the Goats are terrorizing his solitude. The Goats seem to have no concern for the neatness in the hay bales.
Dear Farmer is aghast!
He comes inside at night shaking his head and moaning..."my hay. they are wrecking my hay bales..."
The Wife looks at Dear Farmer.
She has two children hanging on either leg, snotty smiles and giggles. She is holding a baby who needs a diaper change(again). The living room is covered in legos and children. An art project is strewn out on the table with more children. There is lots of activity inside the house. Yelling, laughing, thumping activity. Happy and healthy, energized children.
The Wife offers to Dear Farmer, "I'll send the children out to the barn to help you clean up from the Goats."
Dear Farmer actually looks around, at the Wife, at the house, at the children.
"No...I'll go clean it up later." , he says.
And Dear Farmer goes back out to his barn...and the Goats. It's really not that bad of a mess down at the barn.
Monday, January 4, 2016
Dear Farmer goes to the City
It was a really innocent question that Dear Farmer asked the Wife,"What would you like to do for your birthday?" The Wife gave him an answer that he wasn't expecting..."I'd like to go to the City for a day of shopping."
The look on Dear Farmer's face was one of terror, agony, and disbelief. Why? Why would anyone want to leave the wonderful country for even a day???
But Dear Farmer, being the wonderful husband he is, said (in a shaky voice) "Sounds great! We'll plan the whole day!"
It's not going to the City, per say, that the Wife really wants to do. Really, it's spending an entire day with Dear Farmer out of his element. Dear Farmer in his element just works. And works. And works. And even on date night, he works. Out of his element, away from his wonderful country farm, he has to stop. He has to look at the Wife and have a conversation that doesn't start with the word "FODDER". Instead conversation can drift into paint colors, future and dream vacations, and personal jokes.
Away from his element Dear Farmer is just a boy trying to impress a girl. And the Wife is a girl trying to impress a boy.
So, off Dear Farmer will go, to the City for a day of shopping. Just because he loves his Wife.
The look on Dear Farmer's face was one of terror, agony, and disbelief. Why? Why would anyone want to leave the wonderful country for even a day???
But Dear Farmer, being the wonderful husband he is, said (in a shaky voice) "Sounds great! We'll plan the whole day!"
It's not going to the City, per say, that the Wife really wants to do. Really, it's spending an entire day with Dear Farmer out of his element. Dear Farmer in his element just works. And works. And works. And even on date night, he works. Out of his element, away from his wonderful country farm, he has to stop. He has to look at the Wife and have a conversation that doesn't start with the word "FODDER". Instead conversation can drift into paint colors, future and dream vacations, and personal jokes.
Away from his element Dear Farmer is just a boy trying to impress a girl. And the Wife is a girl trying to impress a boy.
So, off Dear Farmer will go, to the City for a day of shopping. Just because he loves his Wife.
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Dear Farmer and the Darkness
cue dark music....Dear Farmer doesn't do well with darkness. He works much better in sunlight. And as most all of his work is outside...sunlight would be quite helpful. End of dark music.
We all function so much better with sunlight, but here in the north it's rarely sunny in the wintertime. Our days are most often filled with clouds. Especially if the temperatures are warmer...then it's really cloudy!And usually it's raining as well. The gloom is something Dear Farmer doesn't handle all together perfectly. He doesn't like to be wet, or cold, or encased in gloom. All three together are the recipe for a very un-enthusiastic Farmer. Then he becomes like Eeyore, the donkey in Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne...a sad farmer, a whoa-is-me-farmer, a why-oh-why?-farmer.
All of this means several things in Dear Farmer's household. First of all, no matter how much electricity costs, absolutely every light in the rooms where Dear Farmer will be must be on. This includes closets as well. He says it helps lift his spirits...the Wife cringes as the meter could be used for a ceiling fan on day like this.
Secondly, we will never be moving to Alaska(sorry, friends) or anywhere where there is a period of darkness for any amount of time.
Lastly, this means that even with all the lights in the house on-Dear Farmer will still be a little gloomy as he does have to work outside. So the family tries to make his favorite foods for meals, tries to be kind-er to each other and not have loud rambunctious fussy children(HA!).
Even with all our attempts to help, the evening still rolls in at 4:30 p.m. And being a man who's life is dictated by the sunshine...darkness means it should be time for dinner and bed...even if it is only 4:30 p.m. The other day, Dear Farmer came inside. It was another raining day, gloomy, and cold. He shed his "work duds" and turned to the kitchen where the Wife and Hausfrau Farmer's Daughter had already created dinner-complete with fresh homemade yeast rolls. The table was set, the children were seated, and the family ate dinner. Shortly after dinner, Dear Farmer retired to the living room to sit by the woodstove. The children began to get a little loud and rowdy so Dear Farmer sent them all upstairs for bed. When the Wife finished taking care of the dirty dishes, leftovers, and baby she saw that all the children were gone. "Where are the children?" ,she asked Dear Farmer.
"Bed." was his short reply.
"But it's only 6:30 p.m.!!!", the Wife exclaimed.
"It's dark outside.", said Dear Farmer.
Surely all of the world has children that will gladly and quietly go to bed at 6:30 in the evening, but not Dear Farmer's. However, once put in bed...they aren't getting out....it's the principle of the matter. So, despite the children's dislike of an earlier than usual bedtime, it was still bedtime, and Dear Farmer retired to bed at 7p.m. .(The Wife still had stuff to do, so she did not.)
Thankfully, wintertime doesn't last all year. Thankfully, the days will get longer next year, and we won't be living in a gloomy dark cave much longer. Thankfully, Dear Farmer has taken to looking at the clock a little more frequently, and even though we hear "It's only 4:15 and already it's getting dark!" we know that Dear Farmer has at least checked the clock.
cue dark music...
We all function so much better with sunlight, but here in the north it's rarely sunny in the wintertime. Our days are most often filled with clouds. Especially if the temperatures are warmer...then it's really cloudy!And usually it's raining as well. The gloom is something Dear Farmer doesn't handle all together perfectly. He doesn't like to be wet, or cold, or encased in gloom. All three together are the recipe for a very un-enthusiastic Farmer. Then he becomes like Eeyore, the donkey in Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne...a sad farmer, a whoa-is-me-farmer, a why-oh-why?-farmer.
All of this means several things in Dear Farmer's household. First of all, no matter how much electricity costs, absolutely every light in the rooms where Dear Farmer will be must be on. This includes closets as well. He says it helps lift his spirits...the Wife cringes as the meter could be used for a ceiling fan on day like this.
Secondly, we will never be moving to Alaska(sorry, friends) or anywhere where there is a period of darkness for any amount of time.
Lastly, this means that even with all the lights in the house on-Dear Farmer will still be a little gloomy as he does have to work outside. So the family tries to make his favorite foods for meals, tries to be kind-er to each other and not have loud rambunctious fussy children(HA!).
Even with all our attempts to help, the evening still rolls in at 4:30 p.m. And being a man who's life is dictated by the sunshine...darkness means it should be time for dinner and bed...even if it is only 4:30 p.m. The other day, Dear Farmer came inside. It was another raining day, gloomy, and cold. He shed his "work duds" and turned to the kitchen where the Wife and Hausfrau Farmer's Daughter had already created dinner-complete with fresh homemade yeast rolls. The table was set, the children were seated, and the family ate dinner. Shortly after dinner, Dear Farmer retired to the living room to sit by the woodstove. The children began to get a little loud and rowdy so Dear Farmer sent them all upstairs for bed. When the Wife finished taking care of the dirty dishes, leftovers, and baby she saw that all the children were gone. "Where are the children?" ,she asked Dear Farmer.
"Bed." was his short reply.
"But it's only 6:30 p.m.!!!", the Wife exclaimed.
"It's dark outside.", said Dear Farmer.
Surely all of the world has children that will gladly and quietly go to bed at 6:30 in the evening, but not Dear Farmer's. However, once put in bed...they aren't getting out....it's the principle of the matter. So, despite the children's dislike of an earlier than usual bedtime, it was still bedtime, and Dear Farmer retired to bed at 7p.m. .(The Wife still had stuff to do, so she did not.)
Thankfully, wintertime doesn't last all year. Thankfully, the days will get longer next year, and we won't be living in a gloomy dark cave much longer. Thankfully, Dear Farmer has taken to looking at the clock a little more frequently, and even though we hear "It's only 4:15 and already it's getting dark!" we know that Dear Farmer has at least checked the clock.
cue dark music...
Friday, November 27, 2015
22 Years Ago to Today
22 Years ago today...Dear Farmer married the Wife. A girl who didn't fit the description of anything he was looking for in a woman. The Wife married Dear Farmer...who wasn't a farmer back then, he was a Welder, which is good, because the Wife wasn't going to marry a Farmer.
21 Years ago...Dear Farmer, who was a Welder, became an Electrician...which is good, because the Wife wasn't going to be married to a Farmer. And the Wife told the Electrician that he would be a Father.
20 Years ago...Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician and a Father traded in the "sports car" for a "sedan" and sold his motorcycle and bought a boat. Which is good, because the Wife is a beach girl, and boating is a family activity.
19 Years ago...The Wife told Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician, he was to be a Father...again.
18 Years ago...Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician and a Father sold the boat and bought a truck.
17 Years ago...The Wife told Dear Farmer, who was an electrician, "It would be so nice to have another baby."
16 Years ago...The Wife was expecting another baby, and Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician, started his own electrical construction company. It was "...& Sons, Inc." because all he had was boys. But the baby was a girl. The name of the company did not change. And this was all good, because the Wife was grateful she hadn't married a Farmer.
15 Years ago...Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician, bought a cottage by the lake for the Wife. Because she was a beach girl and loved to be near the water.
14 Years ago...The family was expecting another addition again...and all the children had chicken pox...and Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician, sold the "sedan" and bought a 15 passenger van...because he had an inkling the family was going to get bigger.
13 Years ago...The Wife thought, "This is it! We have "arrived" and life cannot get any better!"
12 Years ago...The family was expecting another addition, and we hosted Thanksgiving in the cottage with thirty-one family members and friends and celebrated being married together 10 years. And The Wife was grateful because Dear Farmer wasn't a farmer, he was an electrician. And Dear Farmer was grateful that the Wife had learned how to cook, and loved to host people!
11 Years ago...The family was expecting again, and Dear Farmer started to not like being an Electrician...he was unhappy. And the Wife was just praying he would do anything...but don't be a Farmer!
10 Years ago...Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician became a Builder.
9 Years ago.....The family was expecting again, and Dear Farmer, who was an Builder, began to sell his "...& Sons, Inc" business in pieces.
8 Years ago.....Dear Farmer, who was a Builder, built a barn for a friend. A beautiful barn!!! The Amish friends came an "oooo"-ed at his craftsmanship.
7 Years ago....Dear Farmer, who was a Builder, built a fence for the friend who he built the barn for....and during the building of the fence, the friend asked him about farming cattle...what do you do? how do you do it? And that was the day Dear Farmer thought about being a Farmer...a dream of his since he had been young.
6 Years ago....The family was expecting again, and Dear Farmer was a helping a friend learn farming, and he was still a Builder.
5 Years ago.....Dear Farmer closed the business "...& Sons, Inc." and became a Farmer full-time. And the Wife was not really thrilled, but God had softened her heart and she was learning to love a "farming" way of life. And preparations were made to move out of the cottage and away from the lake.
4 Years ago....Dear Farmer and the Wife moved the family out to the farm and they hosted Thanksgiving where 43 family members and friends were present! They all celebrated being together, grateful that God has made us the wonderful family we are, grateful that God can change hearts, grateful that God is in control of our lives.
3 Years ago....The family was expecting again. Dear Farmer and the Wife were learning the ebb and flow of life on a farm. The family was learning the work, the diligence, and the dedication it would take.
2 Years ago... Dear Farmer thought, "This is it! We have "arrived" and life cannot get any better!" And Dear Farmer and the Wife celebrated their 20th anniversary.
1 Year ago.....The family was expecting again. And the Wife was so grateful that Dear Farmer was a farmer! And she was grateful that she had learned to love the things he loved, and love the life he loved. And Dear Farmer was grateful that he had married the girl he had, and that she was a woman that embraced everything that God sent her way and loved him, his children, and his neighbors. It was all good.
Today....Happy Anniversary, my darling Dear Farmer! He's on the road today picking up the heads of the cattle that just went into the butcher. The restaurant will buy it all. I'm so glad you love being a farmer...I can't imagine being married to anything else, but YOU, a farmer!
21 Years ago...Dear Farmer, who was a Welder, became an Electrician...which is good, because the Wife wasn't going to be married to a Farmer. And the Wife told the Electrician that he would be a Father.
20 Years ago...Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician and a Father traded in the "sports car" for a "sedan" and sold his motorcycle and bought a boat. Which is good, because the Wife is a beach girl, and boating is a family activity.
19 Years ago...The Wife told Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician, he was to be a Father...again.
18 Years ago...Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician and a Father sold the boat and bought a truck.
17 Years ago...The Wife told Dear Farmer, who was an electrician, "It would be so nice to have another baby."
16 Years ago...The Wife was expecting another baby, and Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician, started his own electrical construction company. It was "...& Sons, Inc." because all he had was boys. But the baby was a girl. The name of the company did not change. And this was all good, because the Wife was grateful she hadn't married a Farmer.
15 Years ago...Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician, bought a cottage by the lake for the Wife. Because she was a beach girl and loved to be near the water.
14 Years ago...The family was expecting another addition again...and all the children had chicken pox...and Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician, sold the "sedan" and bought a 15 passenger van...because he had an inkling the family was going to get bigger.
13 Years ago...The Wife thought, "This is it! We have "arrived" and life cannot get any better!"
12 Years ago...The family was expecting another addition, and we hosted Thanksgiving in the cottage with thirty-one family members and friends and celebrated being married together 10 years. And The Wife was grateful because Dear Farmer wasn't a farmer, he was an electrician. And Dear Farmer was grateful that the Wife had learned how to cook, and loved to host people!
11 Years ago...The family was expecting again, and Dear Farmer started to not like being an Electrician...he was unhappy. And the Wife was just praying he would do anything...but don't be a Farmer!
10 Years ago...Dear Farmer, who was an Electrician became a Builder.
9 Years ago.....The family was expecting again, and Dear Farmer, who was an Builder, began to sell his "...& Sons, Inc" business in pieces.
8 Years ago.....Dear Farmer, who was a Builder, built a barn for a friend. A beautiful barn!!! The Amish friends came an "oooo"-ed at his craftsmanship.
7 Years ago....Dear Farmer, who was a Builder, built a fence for the friend who he built the barn for....and during the building of the fence, the friend asked him about farming cattle...what do you do? how do you do it? And that was the day Dear Farmer thought about being a Farmer...a dream of his since he had been young.
6 Years ago....The family was expecting again, and Dear Farmer was a helping a friend learn farming, and he was still a Builder.
5 Years ago.....Dear Farmer closed the business "...& Sons, Inc." and became a Farmer full-time. And the Wife was not really thrilled, but God had softened her heart and she was learning to love a "farming" way of life. And preparations were made to move out of the cottage and away from the lake.
4 Years ago....Dear Farmer and the Wife moved the family out to the farm and they hosted Thanksgiving where 43 family members and friends were present! They all celebrated being together, grateful that God has made us the wonderful family we are, grateful that God can change hearts, grateful that God is in control of our lives.
3 Years ago....The family was expecting again. Dear Farmer and the Wife were learning the ebb and flow of life on a farm. The family was learning the work, the diligence, and the dedication it would take.
2 Years ago... Dear Farmer thought, "This is it! We have "arrived" and life cannot get any better!" And Dear Farmer and the Wife celebrated their 20th anniversary.
1 Year ago.....The family was expecting again. And the Wife was so grateful that Dear Farmer was a farmer! And she was grateful that she had learned to love the things he loved, and love the life he loved. And Dear Farmer was grateful that he had married the girl he had, and that she was a woman that embraced everything that God sent her way and loved him, his children, and his neighbors. It was all good.
Today....Happy Anniversary, my darling Dear Farmer! He's on the road today picking up the heads of the cattle that just went into the butcher. The restaurant will buy it all. I'm so glad you love being a farmer...I can't imagine being married to anything else, but YOU, a farmer!
Monday, November 16, 2015
I'm gonna DANCE!
We have one favorite activity that encompasses all age groups...DANCING!
Truly, we aren't good. You won't see any of us on TV anytime soon, but we DANCE like we mean it! We have heart, if not rhythm.
We could trace the origins of this activity in our family back to the Wife's Great-Grandparents. As country-folk it was a community activity in the winter to gather at one appointed house for an evening of dancing. The Wife's Grandma(the Amazing Farm-Wife) remembers the drive and anticipation of the evenings. They would walk into the house and the floors would have been cornstarched for a little slip. The adults would enjoy the evening dancing away and children would eventually pass out on couches then be loaded into cars for a late-night drive home. Grandma continued her love of dancing during WWII and all the dances afterward. The Wife's Mother learned and loved square dancing and polka. When the Wife and Dear Farmer married, it became almost a requirement that Dear Farmer dance. He even square danced with the Wife's Grandma and the two won family awards.
It seemed only natural that when the children were old enough we taught them the barn dance "Virginia Reel". The children also learned ballroom dancing...the old-school-Fred-and-Ginger ballroom dancing, not this new dancing that looks like an aerobic-workout. This is our dancing. We are hard-core, old-school, break-out-the-fiddle dancing.
If we get really crazy, Honorable Son #2 begins his Irish High-Step Dancing, the rest of us attempt to follow him, but it's so not pretty. That's about as crazy as we get.
O the fun we have!!! Many family nights we have spent moving the dining room tables out and spending the night twirling and laughing. The fiddles sing from our MP3 music and bluetooth speakers, the dog and cats, goats and chickens all peer in our dining room window to see the family warmed by love and woodstove having a evening laughing and talking, spinning and skipping, eventually the adults are the ones sitting and fanning themselves while the youngest pester "spin again, spin again!"
This is a reason to love the long winters, I'm gonna DANCE!
Truly, we aren't good. You won't see any of us on TV anytime soon, but we DANCE like we mean it! We have heart, if not rhythm.
We could trace the origins of this activity in our family back to the Wife's Great-Grandparents. As country-folk it was a community activity in the winter to gather at one appointed house for an evening of dancing. The Wife's Grandma(the Amazing Farm-Wife) remembers the drive and anticipation of the evenings. They would walk into the house and the floors would have been cornstarched for a little slip. The adults would enjoy the evening dancing away and children would eventually pass out on couches then be loaded into cars for a late-night drive home. Grandma continued her love of dancing during WWII and all the dances afterward. The Wife's Mother learned and loved square dancing and polka. When the Wife and Dear Farmer married, it became almost a requirement that Dear Farmer dance. He even square danced with the Wife's Grandma and the two won family awards.
It seemed only natural that when the children were old enough we taught them the barn dance "Virginia Reel". The children also learned ballroom dancing...the old-school-Fred-and-Ginger ballroom dancing, not this new dancing that looks like an aerobic-workout. This is our dancing. We are hard-core, old-school, break-out-the-fiddle dancing.
If we get really crazy, Honorable Son #2 begins his Irish High-Step Dancing, the rest of us attempt to follow him, but it's so not pretty. That's about as crazy as we get.
O the fun we have!!! Many family nights we have spent moving the dining room tables out and spending the night twirling and laughing. The fiddles sing from our MP3 music and bluetooth speakers, the dog and cats, goats and chickens all peer in our dining room window to see the family warmed by love and woodstove having a evening laughing and talking, spinning and skipping, eventually the adults are the ones sitting and fanning themselves while the youngest pester "spin again, spin again!"
This is a reason to love the long winters, I'm gonna DANCE!
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Waiting and Hoping for Hay
When the Wife was a child she could not have thought that as an adult seeding a hay field would be something she would be concerned about. But she is finding that seeding this particular hay field is an "angst" in her wonderful world of agriculture. This hay field has lain fallow for a year, so it first had to be disc-d, rock picked, disc-d again, rock picked, seeded, and then dragged. This is what the Wife has learned this year:
Disc-ing has nothing to do with dancing, mathematics, or an Olympic event. Disc-ing is where a tractor hooks up to an implement that looks to have dozens of round metal discs on end. This implement in lowered to the ground and run over the ground. It is not plowing, it is taking the ground and breaking it up, pulverizing the dirt, and preparing the dirt for seed.
Disc-ing the ground brings rocks to the surface. No seed grows on rocks. Rocks damage farm equipment and possibly Dear Farmer. Rocks need to be removed. They are best removed by a rock picker of some-sort. There are rock pickers that you connect to a tractor, another in a long line of farm implements, and rock pickers can be people. Manual labor tends to be more thorough and more testy. The question here has to be answered, "Do I want to deal with people whining while picking rocks, or spend the money on a rock picker?"
The ground must be disc-d so many times because after the rocks are removed(each time) new ground is uncovered that must be broken and pulverized for planting.
Seeding is the act of planting seed. There is forty pounds of seed needed per acre...the seed must be present before you can begin seeding. Mice like to eat the seeds, so do other rodents, birds, and deer. To order seed years in advance is not wise. It's like storing ice-cream in your freezer the day your baby is born for their third birthday...not only is it tempting for someone to eat it, but it will be no good in three years.
Seed must be ordered and delivered in a timely manner to get the seed planted. Planting can only happen when the conditions are perfect. Dry, but not too dry. Warm, but not too warm. Sun-shining, but not too sunshiny. Not too early, and not too late in the year. And the planting will take time. One full day, nothing else will get done.
After planting the field will need to be "dragged". This is not something that is done with drugs, and it does not mean the work is boring. A "drag" is a massive angry looking farm implement that is flat with spikes poking out of the bottom and possibly chains. It looks more like a medieval torture device, being pulled behind a tractor. It's heavy and nasty to delicately push the seed into the ground and dust the top over with dirt. Sounds like an oxymoron, doesn't it? Once the dragging is done...the name of the game is "Wait and Hope". Wait for nature to do what it will with the seed. And Hope it comes up and the field can grow into an amazing and lush hay mix.
This is what has happened to cause this particular field to be an "angst" in the Wife's life:
Dear Farmer went to disc...the disc broke down. Three different times this happened! It consumed three days of fussing with a broken implement for it to accomplish next-to-nothing! FINALLY Dear Farmer fixed everything to disc, job finally done. Dear Farmer has had to cut other fields, care for other chores, and bale hay...while that was happening someone was to have picked the field. Someone didn't, and didn't and finally did, and did it badly. So Dear Farmer went to disc again, and broke the disc on rocks, and had rocks pelted at him...and sent people back to do a better job. When they were finally done, it was late in the year. The weather was not perfect...Dear Farmer waited...and waited....and then he disc-d as quickly as he could. Then he sent people out to pick rocks...and they did an okay job. And it rained. And the rain destroyed the job Dear Farmer had done of discing...and he had to disc again. The disc was tired, and it did not want to work. But Dear Farmer pushed it, eventually-in October-the job got done. October is too late for planting, but Dear Farmer really had no choice. He cannot keep the seed, which was ordered early in the year, through the winter. So he planted the seed. Then he called the help to drag the field...but the help decided to go home early that day(ARGH!). So Dear Farmer went to bed...wondering...will the seed get wet before the help comes tomorrow to drag??? The help came to drag the field...and it's late in the year...it's cold and dry, blowing and overcast, and Dear Farmer really doesn't want to have to plant this field again. The Wife really doesn't want to have to live through another year of planting this same field. So...we are Waiting and Hoping that next year we will have a hay field with hay growing in it.
Disc-ing has nothing to do with dancing, mathematics, or an Olympic event. Disc-ing is where a tractor hooks up to an implement that looks to have dozens of round metal discs on end. This implement in lowered to the ground and run over the ground. It is not plowing, it is taking the ground and breaking it up, pulverizing the dirt, and preparing the dirt for seed.
Disc-ing the ground brings rocks to the surface. No seed grows on rocks. Rocks damage farm equipment and possibly Dear Farmer. Rocks need to be removed. They are best removed by a rock picker of some-sort. There are rock pickers that you connect to a tractor, another in a long line of farm implements, and rock pickers can be people. Manual labor tends to be more thorough and more testy. The question here has to be answered, "Do I want to deal with people whining while picking rocks, or spend the money on a rock picker?"
The ground must be disc-d so many times because after the rocks are removed(each time) new ground is uncovered that must be broken and pulverized for planting.
Seeding is the act of planting seed. There is forty pounds of seed needed per acre...the seed must be present before you can begin seeding. Mice like to eat the seeds, so do other rodents, birds, and deer. To order seed years in advance is not wise. It's like storing ice-cream in your freezer the day your baby is born for their third birthday...not only is it tempting for someone to eat it, but it will be no good in three years.
Seed must be ordered and delivered in a timely manner to get the seed planted. Planting can only happen when the conditions are perfect. Dry, but not too dry. Warm, but not too warm. Sun-shining, but not too sunshiny. Not too early, and not too late in the year. And the planting will take time. One full day, nothing else will get done.
After planting the field will need to be "dragged". This is not something that is done with drugs, and it does not mean the work is boring. A "drag" is a massive angry looking farm implement that is flat with spikes poking out of the bottom and possibly chains. It looks more like a medieval torture device, being pulled behind a tractor. It's heavy and nasty to delicately push the seed into the ground and dust the top over with dirt. Sounds like an oxymoron, doesn't it? Once the dragging is done...the name of the game is "Wait and Hope". Wait for nature to do what it will with the seed. And Hope it comes up and the field can grow into an amazing and lush hay mix.
This is what has happened to cause this particular field to be an "angst" in the Wife's life:
Dear Farmer went to disc...the disc broke down. Three different times this happened! It consumed three days of fussing with a broken implement for it to accomplish next-to-nothing! FINALLY Dear Farmer fixed everything to disc, job finally done. Dear Farmer has had to cut other fields, care for other chores, and bale hay...while that was happening someone was to have picked the field. Someone didn't, and didn't and finally did, and did it badly. So Dear Farmer went to disc again, and broke the disc on rocks, and had rocks pelted at him...and sent people back to do a better job. When they were finally done, it was late in the year. The weather was not perfect...Dear Farmer waited...and waited....and then he disc-d as quickly as he could. Then he sent people out to pick rocks...and they did an okay job. And it rained. And the rain destroyed the job Dear Farmer had done of discing...and he had to disc again. The disc was tired, and it did not want to work. But Dear Farmer pushed it, eventually-in October-the job got done. October is too late for planting, but Dear Farmer really had no choice. He cannot keep the seed, which was ordered early in the year, through the winter. So he planted the seed. Then he called the help to drag the field...but the help decided to go home early that day(ARGH!). So Dear Farmer went to bed...wondering...will the seed get wet before the help comes tomorrow to drag??? The help came to drag the field...and it's late in the year...it's cold and dry, blowing and overcast, and Dear Farmer really doesn't want to have to plant this field again. The Wife really doesn't want to have to live through another year of planting this same field. So...we are Waiting and Hoping that next year we will have a hay field with hay growing in it.
Friday, September 4, 2015
Job Security
Dear Farmer has it. Fact of the matter is: around here no one can do "everything", but him.
The Wife has it. Fact of the matter is: no one else wants it....here's the story...
In the past the Hausfrau Farmer's Daughter has fancied herself "practically perfect in every-way". She's not actually too far off the mark, her faults are few. Then again, she hasn't lived very long, or very much, so it's easy to be measured within a very small pond as a very big fish. One of her admirable qualities is that she enjoys a mother's job. All she wants to be, she says, is a mother. {sigh} How sweet! Her opportunity came this week as the Wife came down with a raging fever and was useless for five days. The Hausfrau Farmer's Daughter was delighted to be told by Dear Farmer "You're in charge of the meals and the kitchen, keep it together." Like the angels in heaven began to sing and the doors of glory opened whilst the light of divinity shone on her face, she felt something like that. What started off as an angelic ideal began to turn into cruel reality. By the end of the third day the Wife had a haggard and whining Hausfrau moaning "I'm not supposed to be a mom for twenty more years!" The reality of the Chief Cook and Bottle Washer is that no one is ever perfectly satisfied, but it doesn't change the job. You can't please everyone all the time. And no matter how much you clean it-it's never going to stay that way permanently. And I'm just talking about the kitchen and meals...
The Hausfrau Farmer's Daughter did an amazing job! She made her own menu using everything we had in the kitchen, no shopping was needed. She cleaned it, cooked it, and managed it. She really did well. The other children really didn't need to stop and appreciate her job, because she did it so well, it varied little from the Wife being there. But all these positives, when over-worked and tired, become negatives. The sign of maturity is when we look at the glass "half-empty" and see it as beautiful and we choose to proclaim to the world it is "half-full". The Hausfrau Farmer's Daughter isn't quite there yet. She's asleep in bed...enjoying the fact that the Wife is better and awake.
The Wife is grateful that the Hausfrau had this opportunity. Lessons lived are often better learned. And it's nice to know that I have job security for another "twenty years"!
The Wife has it. Fact of the matter is: no one else wants it....here's the story...
In the past the Hausfrau Farmer's Daughter has fancied herself "practically perfect in every-way". She's not actually too far off the mark, her faults are few. Then again, she hasn't lived very long, or very much, so it's easy to be measured within a very small pond as a very big fish. One of her admirable qualities is that she enjoys a mother's job. All she wants to be, she says, is a mother. {sigh} How sweet! Her opportunity came this week as the Wife came down with a raging fever and was useless for five days. The Hausfrau Farmer's Daughter was delighted to be told by Dear Farmer "You're in charge of the meals and the kitchen, keep it together." Like the angels in heaven began to sing and the doors of glory opened whilst the light of divinity shone on her face, she felt something like that. What started off as an angelic ideal began to turn into cruel reality. By the end of the third day the Wife had a haggard and whining Hausfrau moaning "I'm not supposed to be a mom for twenty more years!" The reality of the Chief Cook and Bottle Washer is that no one is ever perfectly satisfied, but it doesn't change the job. You can't please everyone all the time. And no matter how much you clean it-it's never going to stay that way permanently. And I'm just talking about the kitchen and meals...
The Hausfrau Farmer's Daughter did an amazing job! She made her own menu using everything we had in the kitchen, no shopping was needed. She cleaned it, cooked it, and managed it. She really did well. The other children really didn't need to stop and appreciate her job, because she did it so well, it varied little from the Wife being there. But all these positives, when over-worked and tired, become negatives. The sign of maturity is when we look at the glass "half-empty" and see it as beautiful and we choose to proclaim to the world it is "half-full". The Hausfrau Farmer's Daughter isn't quite there yet. She's asleep in bed...enjoying the fact that the Wife is better and awake.
The Wife is grateful that the Hausfrau had this opportunity. Lessons lived are often better learned. And it's nice to know that I have job security for another "twenty years"!
Monday, August 3, 2015
Sunday afternoon and Cows
Dear Farmer and the Wife spent four hours yesterday watering cows. The cows have water-tanks filled by hoses off the hydrants, but the hoses failed and the tanks were dry. A herd of mad, thirsty cattle is not the place you want to be on a Sunday afternoon, but there we were-getting cows water as fast as we could and in as many different ways as we could. Farmers don't get weekends off.
While overseeing the pushing and shoving by the cattle, the Wife was able to get a little more experience being around the herd, and watched Dear Farmer and how he cares for these (ungrateful) cattle. The Wife did ask if she could be up on the tractor, instead of on the ground with the cattle...Dear Farmer said no. Apparently Dear Farmer actually was USING the tractor, and the Wife would have just been up there because it looked like the safer place to be. It really wasn't the safer place to be, it was just higher up. The Wife watched the way the cattle bumped and jostled the tractor, Dear Farmer did not have an easy job!
It was a long and dusty four hours, Dear Farmer and the Wife both had sweat and water mixed with dust and mud covering arms and necks, all over faces and in noses. Ick!
"Did you catch the game?" Nope. No game could have been nearly as exciting as watering a hundred thirsty and mad cows. Nope, we LIVE the game! We're farmers.
While overseeing the pushing and shoving by the cattle, the Wife was able to get a little more experience being around the herd, and watched Dear Farmer and how he cares for these (ungrateful) cattle. The Wife did ask if she could be up on the tractor, instead of on the ground with the cattle...Dear Farmer said no. Apparently Dear Farmer actually was USING the tractor, and the Wife would have just been up there because it looked like the safer place to be. It really wasn't the safer place to be, it was just higher up. The Wife watched the way the cattle bumped and jostled the tractor, Dear Farmer did not have an easy job!
It was a long and dusty four hours, Dear Farmer and the Wife both had sweat and water mixed with dust and mud covering arms and necks, all over faces and in noses. Ick!
"Did you catch the game?" Nope. No game could have been nearly as exciting as watering a hundred thirsty and mad cows. Nope, we LIVE the game! We're farmers.
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